


The Art of Cruelty

by cardcaptorufus



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26788450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cardcaptorufus/pseuds/cardcaptorufus
Summary: Rufus and Tseng re-evaluate their compatibility with each other after spending some time with old friends and make some assumptions about the course of their relationship.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	The Art of Cruelty

_ “Gaia.” _

_ It was all Reeve could gasp upon whatever hell he had just walked into.  _

_ He’d followed the trail of blood here by his torch, and smelled its ripe stench long before. His stomach twisted into knots, and he knew damn well something horrific lay ahead of his footsteps. He coughed before covering his mouth and nose with his free hand. The air was already musty from poor ventilation inside the catacombs, only amplifying the current miasma. _

_ “What is it?”  _

_ “Stay back!” _

_ Mr. Tuesti’s order was a stark opposition to Aerith’s innocent inquiry. _

_ “Don't come any closer!” _

_ Aerith obliged, and hung back in the entrance hall, idly watching her shadows dance across the fluted columns in the dim light. She listened intently for clicks of Reeve’s dress shoes on the stone floor and tried not to be anxious. However, her spiritual intuition rang alarm bells in her mind.  _

_ Fuck. _

_ Reeve gagged. His shoe was warm, crimson pooled thick in front of him. He took a deep breath, and lowered his torch to see whatever lay at his feet, before a guttural scream that wracked his entire body echoed through the stone chambers.  _

  * ••



_ “ _ Your move _.” _

Rufus was smug with his sing-sing voice. He laced his fingers under his chin. 

_ Cocky bastard.  _

Tseng rolled his eyes and moved his pawn across the chess board. He wouldn't win against Rufus— he never had and never would. Despite how unenthusiastically he approached each match, Rufus still insisted they carry on with gusto. The president was completely unphased by his subordinate’s unwilling attitude— Tseng’s reluctance didn't discount his triumph, much less the gloating that followed. 

“I win, again,” 

Rufus licked his lips. The president poured himself a celebratory glass of bourbon, as he had with every victory. Tseng hadn’t counted how many games he'd lost, but he knew it was enough glasses for Rufus— who was already a lightweight— to be slurring his words. 

“We don't have to play anymore… if you're tired of getting your ass whooped, director.”

Rufus took a swig of the liquor and exhaled as the fire ran through his veins. A wild look shone in his blue eyes, and Tseng knew to interpret it as hunger. 

“That's up to you, sir.”

Rufus raised his brows and gestured at the bourbon. Tseng politely declined, opting for a cigarette instead. He decided to push his luck with a salacious offer, smoke curling through his thin lips. 

“Whatever pleases you… Mr. President.” 

“Hmph.” 

Rufus sneered as he glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling picture window of his Junon office suite. He gulped down the rest of his top shelf liquor— in a manner that Tseng would chastise as an _unbecoming fashion_ _for an executive._ It was evening, and the sky reminded him of the color of sorbet— a vibrant orange with wispy clouds passing overhead, fading into blue above the ocean horizon. Rufus didn't bother looking at Tseng, preoccupied with the sunset view from his office.

“Whatever pleases me… would you know what that is Mr. Tseng?”

Tseng grinned and inclined his head towards him. 

“You seem to like it when I take care of  _ back of house _ .”

Rufus scowled at him.

“Come here, now.”

Rufus snapped his fingers impatiently, as if he was calling his dog. 

Tseng stood at attention next to Rufus’s chair with an expert poker face masking the rage building inside of his gut— he refused to give Rufus the satisfaction of riling him up so easily. Tseng expertly held his posture and bit the inside of his lip, before inquiring, “Sir?”

When Rufus wouldn't look at him, Tseng brushed his fingers across his forearm on the arm of his seat. 

Rufus turned to him slowly with a dreadful expression curling the corners of his lips downwards. He glared at Tseng with a furrowed brow, before tossing his head to clear his platinum locks from his face. 

“I did  _ not  _ give you permission to touch me.”

Rufus gasped as Tseng was on him in an instant. The brunette grabbed Rufus’s collar with force and slammed him against the back of the chair like a rag doll with his gloved fists. He mounted Rufus’s lap, and his legs spread wide to accommodate Tseng’s larger build. Rufus squealed as the chair nearly tipped backwards before Tseng steadied them against the adjacent table. 

“I-” Rufus stammered. 

Tseng grabbed Rufus’s cheeks roughly and clenched them in his hands. Rufus whimpered and shook his head for mercy— he’d pushed Tseng too far. 

“You what?”

Rufus only moaned in response. 

“Answer me, you spoiled cunt. _ ” _

Rufus whimpered at his words and bucked his hips into Tseng’s. Tseng scoffed at how he never failed to make Rufus hard with his degradation. 

“Please,” he begged shamelessly. 

“Please what?”

Tseng decided to try a softer tactic than manhandling Rufus to get what he wanted. His leather-clad fingers grazed Rufus’s throat softly and gradually tightened around his windpipe. Tseng’s other hand journeyed downwards, creeped up the inside of Rufus’s thigh, and caressed his hardening balls through his crisp, white slacks. 

“Please, I need it,” 

Rufus whined frantically; Tseng’s grip gradually cut off his airway until he couldn't take it anymore. 

“Call me spoiled again, please,” Rufus whimpered and gasped. Tseng shook his frame by the color one last time. 

“ _ Fuck me!” _

Tseng hauled Rufus up onto the tabletop with his hands gripped underneath his ass. He stretched Rufus out on his back, sending all of the chess pieces clattering to the floor. Tseng laughed to himself: the evidence of his defeat was gone now. He bit Rufus’s ear, taunting him with a flick of his warm tongue along his lobe, before he whispered with a husky growl, 

“ _ Checkmate _ .”

Rufus threw his head back in ecstasy as Tseng untucked his shirt, pushed it up his flat stomach, and got to work undoing his belt and pants zipper. 

“Suck me…” Rufus moaned and reached out to twirl a lock of Tseng’s hair in between his fingers, “suck my dick.”

“... You’re a whore, Rufus.”

Tseng groaned as he toyed with the elastic band of Rufus’s boxers, who was drooling at his insults. He kneeled and rested his chin on Rufus’s abdomen, gazing at him across the table with his dark brown eyes. He loved it when Rufus was like this: giving demands like he was the one in charge, but begging for sweet submission to Tseng’s touch.

Rufus cocked his head and batted his lashes.

“Yes, and you know the rules. You know your duty.”

“Of course.”

Tseng unbuckled his own belt and tossed it to the floor.

“I would never forget, sir,” Tseng spat his title for good measure as he slid his hand below the waistline of Rufus’s pants. 

“Good boy,” Rufus ran his fingers through Tseng’s hair at his scalp before throwing his head back, 

“The President  _ always _ gets to come first.”

  * ••



“So, how are things going with you and blondie?”

It took Tseng a moment to register what Aerith had said to him because, unsurprisingly, he was daydreaming about Rufus. However, he instinctively responded with ignorance, then denial. He hoped she wouldn’t catch him blushing— or at least not allude to it. 

“You know, with  _ you know who.” _

Aerith giggled with sparkling green eyes. Tseng inevitably found her so charming when she was like this. He would’ve been lying if he said that, to this day, Aerith still didn't give him butterflies— he felt a tinge of guilt. Was Tseng so wrong in indulging in her positive aura? It was a stark contrast to how sourly Rufus presented himself, much less how caustically he spoke to Tseng with his self-serving gestures. 

“It's fine.”

Tseng anxiously twirled a lock of dark hair by his face and refused to look at her. He hoped a stern word would deter her, but— as expected— it only encouraged Aerith to prod harder. 

“We're fine.” 

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Aerith hummed the word and tilted her head back and forth as she watered a bed of daisies in front of her and her mother’s cottage. Tseng saw the gears turning in her head; she had never been good at masking her machinations. 

“You don’t sound fine,” She picked a daisy and set it daintily on top of Tseng’s scalp. “Stay for tea and elaborate?” 

“No, I should get going. I have work to do.”

Tseng bowed politely with a nervous smile, and the daisy on his head drifted to the ground.

“But thank you, Miss Aerith. I’m glad you’re doing well.” 

“Are you  _ sure  _ you can't stay?”

She raised her brows and tilted her head towards him with a pleading gaze. Tseng should've known better than to lie to a Cetra.  _ The one time he was actually caught up on his damn paperwork.  _

The turk sighed and crossed his arms. 

“Only a little bit longer.”

  * •• 



“Jasmine, please.” 

Tseng removed his suit jacket and sat down at the modest wooden dining table in the Gainsborough home. It was rickety— the cedar was scratched to pieces. He glanced across the table to a familiar spot: ‘ _ T & A’.  _ They’d scratched their initials into the tabletop years ago with Tseng’s pocket knife. Aerith had noted it was hilarious— their initials prospectively spelling out  _ tits and ass.  _ Tseng had called her childish at the time, but he would’ve been lying if he said it wasn’t a fond memory. In fact, he couldn’t recall a memory he shared with Aerith of which he wasn’t fond. 

“... With a little milk if you would be so kind.”

“Yes, sir,” Aerith poured water into a porcelain kettle decorated with an intricate flower motif Tseng guessed she painted herself, observing the brush strokes. Though Aerith was doing it humorously, Tseng felt strange hearing her address him the same way he addressed Rufus with ‘sir’. He started daydreaming about the blonde again, which brought more stress than ease. Rufus would never be so hospitable to brew him a pot of his favorite tea. Rufus probably didn’t even know what Tseng’s favorite tea was. In fact, the only time Tseng could see ‘tea’ and ‘Rufus’ going together is if Rufus was ordering Tseng to go fetch him a cup. His heart sank. 

He snapped back to reality when Aerith handed him his cup of Jasmine tea, and she noticed his expression was souring. Immediately, he reached into his jacket pocket where he kept his lighter. Tseng was dying for a cigarette to pair with the drink and cool his nerves, but he stopped himself— he knew Miss Gainsborough would throw a fit if she caught him smoking in her house. Tseng tried to forget about Rufus, the impossible task that it was, and focus instead on the saccharine smell of all of the flowers in the cottage.

“You know, my mom won’t be home until later this evening. You can smoke here, I don't mind.”

She really knew him too well. 

“You read my mind.”

“I won’t tattle if you give me one.” Aerith smirked and held out her hand expectantly. 

Tseng gave her a cigarette from the case, and lit it for her —  her smirk put a spell on him. 

“I’ll pretend like I didn’t give that to you, because you shouldn’t be smoking, miss Aerith.” Tseng felt a spark in his gut when he winked at her. 

“So chivalrous,” Aerith teased, taking a long drag off of her cigarette. Tseng smiled politely, however, he could sense that there was more to her tone —  perhaps he also knew  _ her _ too well. If Aerith was a master at anything, it was pushing Tseng’s buttons and getting under his skin in all the right (or wrong) ways. As relaxed and comfortable as he was in the house of an old friend, Tseng decided to indulge her. 

“What are your plans for the evening, Miss Aerith?”

Tseng didn’t care for the answer, but felt an inkling they were musing the same idea. 

Aerith’s heart-shaped lips parted slightly. She paused to answer the question, a wider smile creeping across her mouth as she gazed intensely at Tseng. Aerith’s eyes trailed from his neck to his broad chest under his dress shirt. 

“I already told you, Mister Tseng. My mother won’t be home until  _ late  _ tonight.” 

“Oh, I see.” Tseng loosened his tie and let it hang askew around his neck. He finished his cup of tea in one final swig. 

“Shall we?”

Aerith gasped as he picked her up bridal style and carried her up the creaking wooden stairs into her bedroom. All of Tseng’s inhibitions were quelled- as they always had been- by the seductress of Sector Five.

Her room smelled of sweet incense; Tseng watched her light fresh cones in the ceramic tray on her nightstand. She also lit a few candles to bring some light into the room, then she opened the top drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a small clasped trinket box. 

“You offered me a smoke, now it’s my turn to share with you,” Aerith laughed and grinded the herb. If there was anything Tseng had missed about frequenting Aerith it was this. She grew her own grass, and it was strong stuff. He missed their younger days of having a smoke and wandering through the flowers while they discussed their place in the world and subsequent spirituality. She had been so wise and empathetic, even all of those years ago. As a nearly middle-aged adult, Tseng struggled to have the amount of empathy Aerith had exhibited in her late teens. 

She sat down next to him on the edge of her bed and passed him the cigarette. Tseng took a hit, and hesitated to unbutton his shirt. 

“What’s the matter? Do you not want to do this?”

Aerith asked as she unclipped her bra. Her pink hair ribbon was next to follow, setting her autumn tresses free to cascade down her back. 

“No, I mean…  _ Yes _ , I want to,  _ no _ nothing is wrong.”

Tseng laid down on the bed and forced an uneasy smile in anticipation. He was feeling paranoid as he lost his inhibitions from petty anxieties; the drug was magnifying his conflictions about Rufus. 

“Speak now or forever hold your peace, Tseng,” Aerith sighed as she tightened the buckles on the sides of her strap. Tseng reached behind her to tighten the third on her ass. He wanted this.

He had perfectly justified it to himself, hadn’t he? It was just casual sex; he had never cared about her  _ like that,  _ not the way he cared about Rufus. Rufus wouldn’t care that he fucked other people; Rufus did as well. That had always been an unspoken understanding in their relationship, hadn't it? Consequently, the instinct to protect was still there with both of them, if Tseng was going to compare the two. Should he compare the two? His mind wandered incoherently.

“How does that feel?” Aerith cooed as she ran a lubed finger around the rim of Tseng’s asshole. “...It’s been awhile hasn’t it,” She puckered her lips and hissed. “You’re so tight, Tseng.”

Aerith always made sure to take care of him, whereas Rufus never gave a damn about his own wants or needs— at least it appeared that way toTseng. On the contrary, Aerith never let Tseng take care of  _ her,  _ which was something Tseng very much wanted to do for a potential partner. Rufus definitely won out here; he had no qualms in playing the damsel in distress regardless of how obviously capable he was. Tseng laughed to himself at the thought of Rufus’s feigned lack of self-sufficiency.

Tseng groaned as Aerith fingered him. She knew and paid attention to what he liked during sex. Rufus didn’t do that; Rufus was always his own priority.

_ Damn brat.  _

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Aerith paused to start rubbing lube on her strap. “...I guess you’re ready.”

“Sorry,” Tseng lifted his legs to tighten around her waist. “You had me speechless.”

Aerith thrusted into him with an unhurried pace. Tseng moaned her name just the way she liked, hitching in between the syllables. She ran a finger down his chiseled abdomen when she was inside of him to the hilt. Tseng arched his back and exhaled, tightening around the dildo filling him up and stretching him. Aerith didn’t play with small toys. 

Aerith ran a long nail across the scars on Tseng’s torso that she could make out in the flickering candlelight. She’d always idly traced them while they fucked, and over the years they’d increased in number. Each new scar prompted Tseng to tell a new story of his exploits during their intimacy.

“This one’s new,” She whispered with concern in her voice and pointed to a deep gash near the V of Tseng’s right hip bone. “Tseng…”

“It’s fine,” Tseng tried to brush it off cooly, but his breath hitched as he grew closer to his climax. “Just a scratch from chasing off the president’s old coke dealer.” Tseng flexed his core muscles and sat up straight to lap his tongue over Aerith’s pert chest. He sucked on her pink nipples, occasionally grazing them with his teeth. 

She shook her head and pounded him harder, faster. He felt insecure in that moment; deep down he knew she’d never resented him any more than she did right now for being one of Shinra’s dogs. 

Tseng felt filthy, and he gave it up. 

“...It’s your turn now, you know.”

Tseng kissed Aerith’s wrist affectionately. 

“I'm fine, Tseng, really,” Aeirth fell back onto the pillow next to Tseng. “..You should probably get going soon.”

“Relax, we've got plenty of time,”

Tseng caressed her delicate hand as he held it in his masculine one. Her skin was unbelievably soft. She smelled like lavender.

“Unless you really are kicking me out… I don’t want to leave an unfinished job.”

Aerith purred as Tseng placed an open-mouth kiss at the top of Aerith’s neck where it met her jaw. 

“I suppose I don’t have the heart to,” Aerith cooed. She affectionately stroked the top of Tseng’s head and ran her long, delicate fingers through his brunette locks. “Seeing you like this, I wouldn’t dare kick out a stray.”

Tseng placed an open-mouth kiss on Aerith’s upper thigh in response. Being taken care of was nice on occasion. Aerith gifted him pity; Rufus spat condescension. He sucked on the flesh and lapped his tongue over the spot. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispered. 

Tseng buried his face in-between her breasts and dragged his tongue down the front of her torso as he parted her legs. He kissed her sex with his tongue before lapping his tongue across her clit. 

Tseng sucked and licked her pussy, edging her when she moaned for more. Aerith grabbed a fistful of Tseng’s hair, and forced his face down in-between her legs. She tightened her thighs around his skull as he teased her with his wet tongue, laying it flat across her vulva and slowly dragging it upwards. Tseng penetrated her with his tongue, ramping up his rhythm and intensity as he squeezed her thighs and pushed them wide apart. He licked in circles around the edge of her clit, before flexing his tongue into the center of it.

“ _ Fuck, Tseng! _ ” Aerith gripped his broad shoulders with white knuckles as she rode out her orgasm, and Tseng gently lapped his tongue across her vulva until she finished.

“...You said you don’t like leaving work unfinished,”

Aerith caught her breath and climbed back onto Tseng’s lap. She arched her back and pressed her forehead against his. 

_ “You’ve got me nice and wet, so go ahead and fuck me.” _

  * ••



Tseng’s phone dinged, so he flipped it open, hoping he hadn’t missed any frantic calls from Reno while he was rounding third base. 

_ Where the fuck are you.  _

Tseng sighed, flipped his phone shut, and slid it into his pocket— out of sight out of mind. He regretted opening his phone and disturbing his post-orgasmic clarity, holding Aerith in his arms under the sheets.

“...I'll let you be so you can call your boyfriend.” 

“ He's not my-!”

“Shhh,” Aerith put a finger to his lips with a warning glance. “...Sugar daddy?”

He gave her an annoyed look that she met a compassionate smile. She grabbed a bouquet of fresh pink roses from a vase on the kitchen island, and tied them neatly with a silky crimson ribbon. Aerith clipped the ends neatly with a pair of scissors, and they looked finer than any bouquet from a Sector 0 floral shop. 

“Give these to him. I'm sure he'll appreciate them.”

“No, he doesn’t appreciate anything.” Tseng winced and inhaled the sweet scent of the roses. He gazed at Aerith with years of unspoken confessions hiding behind his eyes.

“But for anyone else… they would be the perfect way to say I love you.”

  * ••



“So, President Shinra, what’s the matter?” Reeve said his title ceremoniously— Rufus knew he was mocking him. _Typical._

“Nothing,” Rufus snapped defensively. 

He nervously picked at his manicured fingernails as he watched Reeve mark up a set of architectural blueprints with a red lead holder. Rufus tried to read them, for he’d always found them visually interesting. Beyond the stylish blocks and grids, however, he could never interpret Reeve’s terrible handwriting or the symbols and intricate linework. He had asked for an interpretation once, and Reeve had rambled about  _ the fundamental rhythm of spatial tectonics  _ for hours. Rufus never asked him about his work again. 

“Something,” Reeve sighed and glanced at Rufus over the rims of his jam jar glasses. He dropped his utensil into its lead sharpener. 

“Nothing is  _ wrong _ , per se.” 

Rufus handed Reeve his drafting brush so he could dust his desktop clean before their therapy session, hoping it was a consolation for all of the black nail polish he’d just chipped off onto Reeve’s desktop. Rufus knew cleanliness and order was paramount to Reeve. It was a shared obsession they’d bonded over. Rufus knew Reeve found him exquisite with his prim and proper appearance— not a wrinkle on his suit, or a platinum hair out of place. Rufus drank in the attention he received from Reeve; it was his drug to be worshipped, to be regarded as perfection. Reeve put him on a pedestal. Tseng would never. 

“...Rufus?”

“Hm?”

Reeve smiled and offered Rufus a backwards glance as he carried the large stack of redlined prints to his drafting table. “Ties don’t make very good stir sticks for coffee, sir. Your mind is obviously somewhere else.”

_ Shit.  _

Rufus pulled his sopping wet tie out of his mug and wrung it out.

“There’s rags in the third drawer of my credenza.”

“No need,” Rufus grumbled. He tossed it into the trash with a flick of his wrist. 

Rufus Shinra didn’t do laundry. 

“Very well then,” Reeve laughed to himself, and Rufus noticed him blush.

“I’m going to brew you a fresh macchiato, and you’re going to tell me what’s on your mind.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tuesti, don’t you have any alcohol?.”

Reeve chuckled, “Of course I do. I know you like your coffee with a shot of whiskey.”

Rufus knitted his brows, but Reeve knew it was endearing. Banter was something the two of them enjoyed— Rufus playing the brat and Reeve the tired, hopeless romantic. Tseng didn’t tease back-and-forth with Rufus. The turk would simply offer the blonde a condescending glare for misbehavior with his no-nonsense demeanor. Rufus attempted to be sympathetic; he gave Tseng the benefit of the doubt in these situations. First of all, Reeve tolerated the banter because they had known each other for a longer time. Additionally, it was clear there was a personality rift present— Reeve was laid back and artistic, whereas Rufus could shove Mako up Tseng’s ass and get materia. 

Reeve was social and charismatic as a curator of the arts. Rufus had followed him to many high-brow cocktail parties after his exhibitions and watched him charm his patrons. On the contrary, it would be a cold day in hell before Tseng cracked a smile outside of his office. He was hermetic and preferred his solitude, which was the complete opposite of Rufus, who often entertained politicians at swanky dinner parties with his vanity. Rufus dreamed of enjoying the nightlife with Tseng the way he did with Reeve, but Tseng couldn’t be torn away from his desk. He didn’t respond to social cues, and he  _ hated  _ people— Rufus included, to his own knowledge. 

“I can make you a martini,” Reeve offered cordially. “I don’t make them as well as Tseng does, But i can hold my own.”

“So… you do know what this is about.”

“Really, Rufus?” 

Reeve’s tone of false annoyance carried over the clinking of his cocktail shaker. 

“Everyone in the damn company knows what you two are up to.”

“Fair enough, but that’s not the issue.”

Reeve served him his cocktail, and Rufus took a large swig of immediately. 

“... You bastard.”

“What?”

“Hold your own?” Rufus scoffed. “This is the best damn chocolate martini I’ve ever had.”

“Then you haven’t had many chocolate martinis.” Reeve was beaming as he rinsed the shaker in his utility sink. 

“No drink for you?”

“No, not tonight. I’m doing a cleanse diet. Green tea for me.”

“On a diet _.”  _ Rufus mocked him and stuck his tongue out. “You just want to watch me get drunk. Fresh blackmail material?”

“What can I say?” Reeve winked and dropped a sachet into his mug. “...That movie we made at the company Christmas party is getting a little old.”

“The one in the janitor’s closet?” Reeve nodded in confirmation, and Rufus snickered.

“Nonsense, I find it a timeless film.”

“You’re already drunk aren’t you, Rufus?”

Rufus stuck his nose up in the air with a grin. “Don’t act like you didn’t know I was a lightweight. Besides, my glass is empty. Make me another one.” Rufus wiggled his empty glass in between his index and middle finger inches from Reeve’s face.

“Oh, I remember,” Reeve exhaled and emptied the rest of the cocktail shaker into Rufus’s glass. “Especially after that night at the country club reception.”

“Shut the hell up,” Rufus bit his lip flirtatiously, “You certainly weren’t there to play golf.”

“No, no,” Reeve shook his head with a grin, “I find it incredibly boring. But seeing you drive a cart into the pond after a few martinis on the other hand-”

“I was on coke.” Rufus threw his hands up defensively and sighed. “Old man Shinra was mad as hell,” Rufus mused. “You’re not a very good babysitter, are you Reeve?”

“No… that’s why that position has been passed onto Tseng.”

Rufus’s face fell immediately and Reeve realized his mistake. 

“Rufus, I didn’t mean anything by that, really.”

“It’s fine.” Rufus swiveled his chair away from Reeve with a frown and slurred his words. “You’re nothing like him anyways. He doesn’t do anything fun... and he hates me.“

“Rufus, you know that isn’t true.” Reeve placed his hand on Rufus’s shoulder.

“Whatever.” Rufus stood up and sauntered over to Reeve — stumbling slightly as he did so— “Are we just going to reminiscence all night?” Rufus whispered in a soft tone and brushed his knuckles across Reeve’s cheek. “Or are we going to make more memories?”

“Don’t put the stalling on me,” Reeve grabbed Rufus by the hips and pulled him into his lap, “you only come to me for one thing, and one thing only, nowadays,” 

“You want me to give you more blackmail material, yeah?” The words came out of Rufus’s mouth as a demand, not a question. He shoved Reeve’s shoulders against the back of his desk chair. “Stop stalling and get your goddamn phone out.”

“No, that’s really unnecessary.” Reeve removed his glasses and folded them neatly on his desk before slipping his phone out of his pants pocket. He flipped it open and laid it on its side facing Rufus’s general direction. “You know I have a photographic memory, Mr. President.”

“Hmph, you know what they say,” Rufus grabs Reeve’s jaw and runs his tongue along the length of his neck, “take a picture, it lasts longer.”

“Rufus,” Reeve moaned his name as Rufus’s skillful fingers got to work unbuckling Reeve’s trousers. 

“Sit still,” Rufus commanded. Reeve pressed the record button cooly. 

“Just sit back, and watch.”

Rufus pulled off his leather moto gloves with his teeth. 

Reeve lapsed in and out of complete ecstasy as Rufus’s lips and tongue curled around the head of his dick, as his hands got to work massaging the bottom of his shaft. He was gentle at first— getting Reeve nice and wet with his tongue was his priority. Then, when Rufus noticed his moans started to lessen, he picked up his pace. Rufus bobbed his mouth up and down along Reeve’s shaft as his fingers reached to play with his hardening balls. Rufus gently ran his tongue over Reeve’s slit, tasting his precum. 

“ _ Fuck,”  _ Reeve moaned and leaned as far back in his chair as he was able. He ran his fingers through Rufus’s soft locks as his head bobbed up and down. Reeve grabbed a lock and pulled it— just the way Rufus liked— and he let out a deep moan midst deepthroating Reeve in his mouth.  _ “I’m close!” _

“On my face,” Rufus begged breathlessly, “Blow it on my face.”

Reeve denied him, coming in Rufus’s mouth with one last shove into his face. Rufus gagged and shuttered. His cheeks glistened from the wet tears streaming from his eyes. Still, he swallowed it all. 

“Fuck!” Rufus shuddered again and grabbed Reeve’s mug of tea off of his desk. He chugged it. 

“... Do I really taste that bad?”

“No, I just wasn’t expecting to taste you at all,” Rufus sneered.

“Oh,” Reeve raised his brows. “You know I couldn’t do the  _ other thing _ . You have to walk home, Ruf.”

“..No, I don’t,” Rufus’s voice was soft as he climbed into Reeve’s lap and placed his hands on his shoulders. 

“Stay for the evening then… spend the night,” Reeve moaned his plea with a hot breath against Rufus’s ear. 

“I can’t now...” Rufus whispers with a sigh. He pauses for a long time. “I’m thinking about him again. I’m sorry.”

“...Please, forgive me. I should have known better.” 

“It's alright… he hasn't bothered to respond to my text message anyways.” Rufus’s eyes started to water. “Maybe I should just stay here.” Rufus realized immediately how conniving that had sounded. He felt terrible treating Reeve like a placeholder for Tseng, but didn’t elaborate on his feelings for fear of further putting his foot in his mouth drunkenly.

“He's probably just busy,” Reeve reassured him and gently massaged Rufus’s back to calm him down. “I'll stay here with you until you decide.”

Rufus could tell Reeve was fuming under his cool exterior but knew well enough not to say anything. He didn't have to voice his concern— Rufus felt just as consoled. Tseng didn’t have the kind aura that Reeve radiated. 

Tseng was cold. 

“I’m sorry,” Rufus’s apology would’ve been uncharacteristic with anyone else. 

“No, don’t apologize. To see Rufus Shinra  _ wait  _ on someone… I never imagined I’d live to tell the tale.” Reeve winked at him, tousling his strawberry locks like he had since Rufus was younger. 

Rufus forced a grin in the midst of anxiously biting his nails. With his free hand, he flipped open his phone one last time. 

_ Nothing.  _

“...You want me to order us dinner while we wait?”

“No thanks,” Rufus politely declined. He stared at the floor, idly rotating back and forth on the stool he was sitting on. It creaked slightly as it turned. “...I think I’m going to leave soon,” Rufus said quietly and sheepishly rubbed the nape of his neck. “Can’t really think of anything that pairs well with your cum in my mouth,” he chided.

Reeve laughed. “You at least want me to walk you back to your suite?”

“I do…” Rufus paused. His lips trembled as he struggled to find the right words to say. “But I won’t. I think some time alone would do me well, considering.” 

More than anything, Rufus wanted to take Reeve home with him. In his mind, he knew exactly that’s what he should’ve done. Rufus Shinra — the rich playboy, the cold-hearted bastard — should have taken Reeve to his bed, and locked Tseng out of the penthouse. In that moment, he imagined himself falling asleep snuggled up next to Reeve under the sheets after a good fuck, his coarse beard grazing Rufus’s soft cheeks. That dream was right in front of him, and all Rufus had to do was say the word. Because Rufus Shinra  _ always _ got what he wanted. 

However, acting according to his reputation did not fill Rufus with the vengeful satisfaction that it usually did. 

Tseng and Rufus had been seeing each other for nearly a year, and they had been living together for a few months. They’d gotten frisky one night after a company dinner party in Rufus’s suite. However, recently, reality had lifted the rose-tinted glasses from Rufus’s eyes.

Rufus went to great lengths in his mind to give Tseng clemency. Rufus knew that he, himself, was an exhausting persona to tolerate consistently. Overdramatic was an understatement for the ‘high highs’ and ‘low lows’ of his rollercoaster of emotions, as well as his need for constant stimulation and attention. Consequently, this was where things started to go awry in his mind, and Rufus saw himself as a burden. Furthermore, the disparity of his emotions only increased with this in mind, and Tseng seemingly grew more tired of the antics Rufus himself didn’t know how to control. Even worse, this wasn’t including the level of incompetence with which Tseng perceived Rufus’s professional duties in his recent succession to President of the Shinra Company that he’d attempted to thinly mask with rampant narcissism. 

At least that’s what Rufus had deduced by playing his own therapist.

Tseng was a man of few words, but his cold gaze spoke volumes. The perceived contempt in the reflection of his brown eyes Rufus had likened to looking into a disenchanted mirror that exposed the most flawed parts of his person.

Rufus felt insane, trapped in the ruminations of his own anxious mind: Tseng hadn’t outright  _ said _ those things to him. Beyond a gut feeling, Rufus’s assumptions were completely baseless as to whether Tseng detested him — besides wholesome pillow talk, coupled with their stellar sexual chemistry.  However, sensuality was fleeting, and good sex alone didn’t make a fulfilling relationship for Rufus. If that were the case, he’d happily be partnered with Reeve, but was he not committing his ideals to Tseng for the same wrong reason? 

Surely, if Rufus was more than a pretty fuck to him, he’d have the decency to communicate with him with a quick text. 

“You alright?”

Rufus draws his legs in close to his chest 

“Fuck, Reeve...” Rufus breathes with a terrified expression and a tear runs down his cheek. 

“I think I’m in love with him.”

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 2 is done i broke this into parts for the sake of organization. will proofread and post it eventually


End file.
